


My favourite book

by actual_trashbag_living_in_space



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drowning CW, Fluff, Little touches and stuff, M/M, Post-Fall, seriouslu this is so fluffy I want to barf, theres comforting and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actual_trashbag_living_in_space/pseuds/actual_trashbag_living_in_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The alarm clock told him it was 3:24am. He was glad he didn't actually scream, didn't wake up Hannibal sleeping in his arms. Or at least he thought he didn't.</i><br/><i>“Are you okay?” Will felt Hannibal speak against his bare chest and his breathing slowed down a little. Hannibal was here, with him, alive and well, not drowned in the sea but in his arms.</i><br/><i>“Yes,” he mumbled and hugged Hannibal a little closer, ”just a nightmare.”</i><br/>-</p>
<p>Or: Will has nightmares, Hannibal comforts him, and there might be a proposal involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My favourite book

**Author's Note:**

> this is my hannigram holiday exchange gift for lovemenace at tumblr :) I hope you like it :)

The water is cold, way too cold. He can't really move, can't breathe. The body is slowly sliding from his grip, falling down into the depths of the water. He tries to swim after it but now he can't move at all anymore, like his arms and legs are bound. The sea is pulling him down, down, down, and it feels like his throat is contracting. It's getting darker, colder, and he can feel the presence of the fish around him. They're looking at him, swimming around him in circles, sometimes he can feel their tails touching his arms, legs, stomach. It's as if they're only waiting for him to die so they can finally eat him, tear him apart. He is blind, can't see anything, not even his own hands. He can't feel his limbs anymore, can't feel his heartbeat either. _Maybe I'm dead_ , he thinks. _Maybe that would be the best_ , he thinks. But then he can feel again, and it's a hand in his hand, warm and dry and safe. And it pulls him down, toward a face, pale, with big, brown eyes, and blood is running from them, and he screams and screams and screams but water is filling his lungs, is choking him, and he can't do anything. Then he wakes up.

The alarm clock told him it was 3:24am. He was glad he didn't actually scream, didn't wake up Hannibal sleeping in his arms. Or at least he thought he didn't.  
“Are you okay?” Will felt Hannibal speak against his bare chest and his breathing slowed down a little. Hannibal was here, with him, alive and well, not drowned in the sea but in his arms.  
“Yes,” he mumbled and hugged Hannibal a little closer, ”just a nightmare.” Hannibal pressed a sloppy kiss to Will’s skin and pressed his head deeper into his chest.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Will could tell by the way Hannibal's accent came through more that he was already half asleep, so he shook his head and whispered, “no, honey, go back to sleep.”  
“Mkay, love you,” Hannibal mumbled.  
“I love you, too,” Will told the darkness.  
He lay awake for a long time, Hannibal in his arms, breathing and alive. He thought  
too much, about the wrong things. When he drifted off again it was to a steady heartbeat matching his own. 

_Will. Will, can you hear me?_ There's a hand on his arm, shaking him. It needs to stop. It hurts. Why does it hurt so much. Everything is red and black and he can't open his eyes. Pain. _Will, say something. Will, please!_ Why is the voice so loud. It hurts. Everything hurts. He just wants, no, needs, it to stop. He wills his eyes open, slowly, and is greeted by blackness. There is nothing. He feels like he's falling, like he's supposed to fly but his wings are broken, like there's no one there to catch him. There are red eyes, following him, coming closer and closer, and then there's that voice, screaming his name over and over, and everything hurts so much. He opens his arms, not sure if to fly or to welcome the darkness. The floor crashes into him, or maybe it's the other way around but he doesn't know, doesn't care. Hitting the surface doesn't make a sound, silence echoing off the darkness. He tries to lift his head but the pain is too much. He can barely even move his fingers without screaming. And the voice is still yelling, screaming, crying, too loud, too close, too much. And then the floor underneath him begins to crumble, to fly away to just fall. And so does he. He crumbles, pieces of him falling into the darkness, becoming one with it, disappearing. Time doesn't exist, doesn't count, doesn't matter. The voice is getting more distant, slowly fading, getting drowned out by the silence surrounding him. One last _Will_!, and then everything is gone. 

Hannibal was leaning over Will, a hand on his wet cheek and the other slowly rubbing his side.  
“Hey, it's okay, it's all okay,” he murmured and put a strand of hair behind Will's ear. Will was still shaking, breathing hard, not knowing why. It hadn't been one of his worst dreams, in fact, it was almost nothing like his usual nightmares. But the feeling of loosing everything, of loosing Hannibal, had been too much. He gripped Hannibal's arm, feeling the skin, and looked up into his eyes. They were steady, slowly scanning his face, and they were real, they were there. A tear rolled down the side of his face and fell onto the pillow. He pulled Hannibal down on top of him, just holding him close and being held, breathing in his scent and feeling his arms. Hannibal kept whispering reassurances and ‘I love you’s, stroking his neck and telling him that he was there, that he wasn't gonna leave him. Slowly, Will stopped shaking, started breathing evenly. Hannibal looked up from where his face had been buried in Will's neck.  
“Are you better now?” He asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice. One of his hands came up to cup Will's cheek again, his thumb rubbing circles into his skin.  
“Yeah I,” Will coughed, trying to get his voice to work, ”I'm better. Thank you.” He smiled up at Hannibal.  
“Do you want something to drink?” Hannibal asked. Will nodded, his throat felt like he hadn't drank anything in days. Hannibal leaned down and pressed a little kiss on Will's lips, whispered, “I'll be right back,” and was gone. Will sat up, head leaning against the wall, exhausted from the lack of sleep and constant nightmares. He sighed, wished he didn't have those dreams, wished that he could just forget what they had gone through. The mattress dipped next to him and Hannibal gently motioned him to move a little, just to slide in behind him and hold Will in his arms, legs wrapped around his hips. He reached over and placed a glass of water in Will's hand, their fingers brushing lightly.  
“Thank you,” Will mumbled and leaned back into Hannibal's chest, breathing in his scent.  
“You're welcome,” Hannibal answered and he tightened his grip around Will's middle.  
“You know, Will, I used to have nightmares all the time,” Hannibal began in a quiet, even voice. Will could feel the vibration and leaned back even more, tried to get as close to Hannibal as possible. “I would dream about Mischa, or my parents, or sometimes even one of the people I killed. Most of the time, my dreams didn't make sense, they were abstract, different versions of what had actually happened. For a while I woke up every night, screaming my sister’s name,” Hannibal's voice broke a little at that, like remembering hurt.  
Will twisted a little until he could look at Hannibal in the darkness, and put a hand on his neck.  
“You don't have to talk about it. It's okay,” he said with a quiet voice, caressing Hannibal's neck, touching his shoulder and collarbone.  
“But I want to,” Hannibal replied, putting his hand over Will's. He smiled. He wanted to share this with Will, wanted to tell him that it was okay to be scarred, that it was okay not to be okay. He wanted to give him this part of him, not the last part maybe, but the first one, the first step to sharing the last.  
“What helped me most was finding an anchor. Something so strong I could hold onto it even in my sleep.” He nuzzled Will's neck and breathed in his scent. “At first it was my anger. Anger at myself and at the people who had failed me. I was angry all the time, but I never let it show. But when I was asleep, I would get angry, so angry, I would keep the monsters away.” He smiled at Will, and got a small, private smile back. “Most of the time I dreamt of myself...eating Mischa. Sometimes she would still be alive, would look up at me with scared and hurt eyes, would try to take my hand, to stop me from cutting off her leg. That's when I got angry, when I just left her and ran. And once I was far enough away, my dream changed, and it got pleasant, or at least bearable.” He stopped there, let the words sink in. Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal's torso, holding him close, protecting him. He had shifted so that he was sitting in Hannibal's lap bridal style and they were wound tightly around each other. “When you came into my life, when you were just constantly there, my anchor shifted. You became my anchor, Will.” Soft lips touched Will's hair and he leaned into the touch and squeezed Hannibal's side gently.  
“Thank you, Hannibal. Thank you for telling me, thank you for opening up to me.” He looked up at Hannibal and smiled, “I love you,” he said and softly kissed Hannibal on the lips.  
“I love you, too,” Hannibal whispered.  
They fell asleep curled around each other, feeling secure and sheltered.

When Will woke up the next time it was to the smell of eggs and coffee. He stretched a little and followed the heavenly smell to the kitchen. Hannibal was cooking with the back to him, and Will walked up to him and curled his arms around his middle.  
“Good morning, Hannibal,” he said, kissing his neck.  
“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well for the last 3 hours?” Hannibal asked and leaned into Will's touch without pausing his cooking. Will nodded and smiled.  
“Thanks,” he said, “for everything.”  
“Of course, Will, it was my pleasure,” and he raised Will's hand up to his mouth and pressed a small kiss to his fingers.

They were sitting on the balcony, sun shining on their faces, feet entangled under the table.  
“I need to go into town today, alone,” Will said, trying to sound nonchalant. The ring in his pocket was heavy and he was nervous. Hannibal looked over at him, clearly not buying the whole ‘it's nothing’ act and nodded.  
“Are you sure you don't want my company, Will?” Hannibal asked and looked at him.  
Will coughed. “No, I need to do this alone,” he answered. Hannibal nodded again and smiled.

It had been roughly six months since Will had asked Bedelia if Hannibal was in love with him. So much had happened since, and now they were here in this little town in the Canadian mountains with five dogs and a little cabin. They shared a bed, a bathroom, a life. They shared their dreams, hopes, wishes. They also shared the things they dreaded, ran from, hoped would never catch them. Maybe they didn't share everything yet, but they were getting there, were starting to understand each other like they were one. And Will wanted to keep understanding and discovering Hannibal for the rest of his life.

When he came out of town, Will had a basket in his hand which held everything you needed for a good picnic - and the ring box.  
“Honey, I'm home,” he said and put the keys in the box next to the door. Several dogs were jumping up and down around him, begging for his attention and trying to get their snouts into the basket. He held it high above his head so that the dogs couldn't reach it, and walked up to Hannibal to press a small kiss to his lips.  
“Hi,” Hannibal murmured and smiled. “Plans?” He gestured to the basket in Will's hand.  
“Yes, we're having a picnic,” Will smiled, excited. “Come on, you get dressed while I get the dogs,” he said, and with that he was out the door again.  
In the car Hannibal reached over and put his hand over Will's rubbing his thumb in little circles over his skin. 

Will knew a meadow, away from people, in the middle of the forest. A little spring went through it, and the sun bathed the grass in warm light. It was beautiful.  
“Yes Hannibal, I know how much you enjoy cooking, but this is something for you, for us, and you shouldn't have to cook for that. The food that I got is good, believe me! I even got you chocolate lave cake, so don't be like that,” Will said, smiling at the fake pout Hannibal was pulling. Hannibal smiled at him and said, “thank you, dear.” Then he wound a hand around Will's neck and kissed him.

They had just finished their main course and lay sated next to each other on he blanket, shoulders and thighs touching, just enjoying the sun hitting their faces. And even though Will didn't want to destroy the peace, he twisted toward the basket and got the ring, letting it fall into his back pocket.  
“Will? What are you doing there?” Hannibal asked, eyes still closed.  
“Can you do me a favour and stand up please?” Will asked, completely ignoring Hannibal's question. Hannibal grumbled something about “being asleep” and “enjoying the quiet” but eventually got up to stand opposite of Will. Will took both his hands into his and started talking.  
“Hannibal. Seven months ago, I was oblivious to both your and my own feelings. I went through the world so focused on not letting you get into my life again that I didn't notice it was too late already. You had, once again, successfully wormed your way into my life. And this time you were there to stay. But the thing is, no, seeing you again wasn't good. But it was what I needed, what I wanted. It made me feel whole and understood in a way I had missed those past three years. I think the night you went to prison, we swapped pieces of ourselves. You took something of me, something that made me feel numb and alone, and you gave me something of yourself, so that you would always be there. First seeing you again didn't make either of us whole, didn't fit the pieces back in place. But these last six months, they brought me closer to completion. You are like a book that I've read so many times, but every time I reread it, I learn something new. Like the fact that you actually love dogs, despite trying to argue it every time I bring it up. Or that Spring is your favourite season because everything is so new and refreshing. Or that your feet are always cold. I'm betting they're cold right now.” Hannibal chuckled at that and gave a little nod. “Or that you give the best massages. Or that, while you're the best cook I know, baking is somehow not your fortune, to put it nicely. The point I'm trying to get at is that I want to keep rereading your book. I want to discover and understand you new every single day of my life. I want to wake up next to you and just feel you breathe. I want the little things, like braiding your hair, or cuddling in front of a fireplace, or, hell, even a snowball fight,” Will laughed lightly at that and saw a smile tug at Hannibal's lips. Since Hannibal had started growing out his hair Will had been unable to keep his hands out of them. “I want to grow old with you. I want to be able to tell you ‘I love you’ every single day. Because I do. I love you. I love you more than you can ever know.” Will got down on one knee and opened the little ring box to reveal a silver ring on red velvet. “So I'm asking. Hannibal Lecter, will you marry me?” A tiny tear fell from Hannibal's eye and rolled down his cheek. He couldn't really talk, so he bent down and helped Will up just to hug him tightly, press his face into the crook of his neck and breathe.  
“I love you,” he whispered, over and over. Then he let go just far enough to kiss Will softly on the lips, slow and deliberate, a demonstration of his love. He brushed their noses together and smiled at the little chuckle Will let out. “I would love nothing more than to marry you,” he whispered and captured Will's lips with a smile. Their teeth clashed lightly because they both couldn't stop smiling and that just made them laugh even more. It was perfect.  
“May I put the ring on your finger, Hannibal?” Will asked against Hannibal’s mouth.  
“Yes, please,” Hannibal answered and pulled away a little, just enough to hold up his hand and let Will put the ring on. The metal was cold on his skin, and the weight was comfortable around his finger. 

They were lying in bed later that night on their sides, facing each other. Hannibal's hand lay over Will's heart and Will had put his hand over Hannibal's. With his finger he moved the ring a little up and down, and Hannibal smiled.  
“Its beautiful,” he said, “ and so are you.” He closed the distance between them and let his eyelashes flutter on Will's cheek a little, a gesture so much more intimate than any kiss. Then he moved up a little to brush their noses together and finally let their lips touch.  
“Did you know,” Will whispered, “that there is a little anatomical heart engraved on the inside?” Hannibal let his lips hover over Will's for a second longer and then pulled away to take off his ring. In the dim light coming from the lamp on their nightstand he could see a tiny anatomical heart with veins and the aorta engraved on the inside, delicate and beautiful.  
“Thank you,” he whispered back, and, “I love you.”

Will fell asleep that night with Hannibal tucked close to his chest and their fingers entangled, the metal of Hannibal's ring cold against Will's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first (and probably only) fluff fic I ever wrote so bear with me? :)


End file.
